


Sleeping Beauty

by AlyssiaInWonderland



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Academy Era, Actual Long Suffering Father Chris Pike, Cadet James T. Kirk, Dadmiral Christopher Pike, Don’t copy to another site, Gen, How Do I Tag, Humor, Insomnia, Kirk falls asleep, Kirk is cutting class and Pike has to call a meeting, Light Angst, POV Christopher Pike, Skipping Class, Tarsus IV, for the record Tarsus is only mentioned and not directly addressed, mid-lecture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-30
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-10-19 14:33:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17603150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlyssiaInWonderland/pseuds/AlyssiaInWonderland
Summary: For the tumblr prompt: I wish you would write me a fic where Jim falls asleep from exhaustion in Pike's office while Pike is trying to give him a lecture on skipping classes.It evolved into something with humour and a sprinkling of angst right at the end. It's mostly humour though. Promise!





	Sleeping Beauty

“Come in.”

Chris watched as the door nudged open, and Kirk sidled in.

“You wanted to see me, Sir?” Kirk asked, his voice uncharacteristically subdued. 

Chris frowned internally. No quips, no cheeky grin; something was definitely, as the kids say, ‘up’. He skimmed his eyes over Jim’s form as he stood, waiting at a slightly sloppy parade rest.

His cadet reds were ironed, but somehow still managed to carry a rumpled air about them - likely because they appeared to be at least one size too large. Which was strange, because Chris recalled that they had fit the kid perfectly not too long ago. His dirty blond hair was technically regulation compliant, but it too seemed fundamentally messy despite being entirely within protocol. The last piece of the ominous puzzle was how Kirk seemed pale, and unfocussed. His gaze was soft, resting somewhere over Chris’ shoulder, but despite his seeming distraction he was still shifting uneasily where he stood.

“Please,” Chris said, as much to snap Kirk’s attention back to him than anything else. “Have a seat.” He gestured to one of the the considerately plush armchairs ready for his visitors.

“Oh, no thank you, Sir. I’m alright here.” Kirk demurred. He seemed only barely aware that declining would be impolite.

The kid hadn’t seemed the type to get wired or drunk in class, but Chris had been wrong before. Between the skipping classes and how out of it Kirk seemed, he couldn’t just discount it.

“Sit. Down.” Chris made his voice firm, the tone he used when he wished to brook no argument.

Kirk moved stiffly to the chair, and all but collapsed into it, bouncing slightly as his weight fell onto the cushions.

“Why did you ask to see me, Sir?” That was the second defensive honorific in as many minutes. Chris sighed.

“I’ve been contacted by one of your lecturers, Cadet.” He tried to imbibe his tone heavily with meaning, but Kirk didn’t seem to be getting the memo.

“Huh?” Kirk brushed his hand over his hair, likely out of a habit formed when it was longer. “Oh. Which one?”

The fact the kid didn’t even bother to ask why was disconcerting.

“Professor Radley, from  _ Recent Starfleet History _ .” On the blank look Kirk gave him, Chris restrained an eyeroll and elaborated. “He said you have been skipping his classes.”

“Well…” Kirk starts, seemed like he’s going to say something, but then he trailed off. Chris assumed it was either because he realised his defence was poor, or that he forgot what it even was in the first place.

“In fact, according to the register, you have not attended a single one of the classes in your newest module, bar the first” Chris folded his arms, bringing out his most impressive glare. Kirk blinked back at him.

“But I don’t need to attend that anymore, Sir…” Kirk’s words were almost slurred. 

“Don’t need to - this is a compulsory module for that course, Kirk!” Chris snapped, his exasperation getting the better of him. “I know you know most of the course content already; I’ve read your transcripts. But that is no excuse to be so blase about attendance requirements! It’s about respect, Cadet. These lecturers and professors are Starfleet professionals, taking time in their busy careers to tutor you. 

“Now, perhaps those subjects are ones you already understand, or even just find plain dull, but you will not get a free pass, even if you ace the exam. Learning, courses, all the training at the Academy has a solid foundation of building teamwork skills; fostering cooperation within and without your cohort. It’s - Kirk? Kirk, are you even listening to me?” 

Chris turned his sharp gaze to Kirk, how his head was bowed. On another cadet it might have passed for shame, but when he looked closely he could see that his eyes were closed, his breaths coming less frequently than they ought, and his limbs seemed slack.

Chris was inches away from breaking out a scanner, because there was high and trashed, and then there was this, whatever the hell this was.

And then he heard it.

The snore.

The damning, relieving, infuriating snore.

The kid had fallen fast asleep. Mid-lecture. It had been shaping up to be a good one too; something about building trust and networks to use later in life out in the field, how learning history prevented the same tragedies from occurring again. He’d have to save it up for something else now.

Chris caught himself smiling fondly, and shook himself. Kirk sitting and - was that drool? Kirk  _ drooling _ while fast asleep on his office chair should not be endearing. It  _ wasn’t _ endearing.

Even if the kid looked so much younger asleep than he did awake. And somehow contrived to look innocent with it, despite the debauchery and misspent years Chris knew he had had.

Chris liked to think of himself as a kind, decent person. Generally speaking, he was far more prone to wisdom than he was to mischief, no matter what Phil said - his CMO was just as bad as him, if not worse.

Something about the sleeping form before him was just too tempting.

Carefully, he reached out and picked up his air-horn.

Watching Jim practically leap out of the chair, coming to parade alert in a tangle of limb and wide-eyed confusion, was immensely satisfying.

“I wasn’t quite done with my lecture, Cadet. Though I’m pleased you found my dulcet tones quite so soothing.” He said, dryly, delivering this with barely a twitch in his serious expression.

“Wha- Sir, I am so sorry, I didn’t mean to-” Kirk stammered, his cheeks flushed bright pink.

“I can see that.” Chris decided to take pity on the poor kid. It was obvious he’d been pushing himself in some way, to fall asleep so helplessly. “Sit back down, Cadet.”   
  
“I’m so sorry, really I - uh - yes, Sir.” Kirk subsided back into the chair, his cheeks still aflame with colour. He was looking down in shame for real now, and the self-recrimination in his tired eyes was as horrible as it was gratifying.

“Listen here, Kirk.” Chris said, and winced at his phrasing, because it made Kirk stare at him, terrified. Now he wasn’t half-asleep, he was taught as a bowstring, on the edge of his chair and seemingly on the edge of his last nerve, too. “You’re missing classes. You’re exhausted. Frankly, you’re a complete goddamn mess.” He watched Kirk carefully, and saw the subtle flinch. He gentled his voice. “Jim. What’s wrong?”

“I thought I submitted a course transfer request, Sir. I didn’t hear anything back, so I assumed it would be alright.” Jim spoke softly, watching his fingers twist and tap in his lap, restless.

“We do our best to accommodate, but since schedules are frozen before the start of the semester, there must be compelling reason to change. If you didn’t cite a reason, especially after attending the first lecture, the request would have been ignored.” Chris explained this as clearly and calmly as he could. Kirk was obviously distressed; getting snippy about his assumption would do nothing to further the situation.

“Oh. I - I see.” Kirk was still looking down. Chris hadn’t realised how accustomed he had become, to those bright blue eyes tracking his every move, interested and lively with intelligence.

“Kid, I know you didn’t want to swap because you couldn’t handle the difficulty level.  _ Recent Starfleet History _ is usually considered one of the easier modules. What have you even been attending, in its place?” Chris couldn’t quite manage to ask why he’d requested the transfer. Something was nagging at the back of his brain, tugging familiarity that suggested to him he should handle the present and then look it up. In case he made a fool out of himself. His gut - and his intuition - rarely served him wrong.

“ _ Cross-galactic Logistics and Supply Chain Management _ , Sir.” Kirk replied. He finally looked up to meet Chris’ eyes, and he gave a weak smile at Chris’ bemused expression.

“Christ, Jim. You couldn’t have picked a harder class to transfer to?” Chris couldn’t resist the chance for sarcasm. It was compulsive; probably even obligatory for officers over a certain rank, especially ones devoted to learning.

“Well,” Kirk said, somewhat earnestly. “ _ Xenolinguistics and Codified Inter-planetary Law _ was full already.” Thank God; the kid was awake again, and snarky to boot. Chris smiled.

“I see.” Chris tapped his finger on his desk. “You have been attending those classes since?”

“Yes, Sir. You can ask Professor Solek, if you like.” Kirk nodded eagerly.

“Cadet, Professor Solek teaches the  _ Xenolingustics _ module. Professor Arnold teaches  _ Logistics and Supply Chain _ .” Chris frowned. They had been so close to an accord, and then Kirk had to pick the wrong damn class.

“Oh, you can check with him too, Sir. I’ve been attending both - I’ll only sit the exam for the one with space, and I can take  _ Xeno _ for extra credit next exam-set. I figured the more I fit in, the better, for a three year finish?” Kirk looked serious, and despite the fact the bruises under his eyes were also so serious they might start studying by themselves, Chris believed him.

“Send me your transfer request and attach the original to it, Kirk. I expect no complaints from Arnold or Solek. You hear me?” Chris sighed. The things he did for his cadets. At least Kirk seemed to have his schedule worked out already.

“Okay, Sir. Of course. Thank you!” Kirk grinned, wildly, and Chris repressed the urge to backtrack. The sheer relief and manic joy on Kirk’s face at not being in trouble was nice, but it also made Chris wonder if perhaps it would have been better to stick with the rules. With a grin like that, the kid might get carried away and start ruining his reputation for being a hardass.

“Don’t grin or thank me, Kirk. You’re just lucky I’m in a good mood. And that you worked out your timings already.” Chris nodded, and Kirk scrambled up to salute him. “Alright, enough with the flattery. Get out of here, Kirk.”

Kirk dashed for the door, and Chris called out to him before he could quite vanish.

“Oh, and Jim?”   
  
“Yes, Sir?” Jim hovered by the door.

“You look shattered. Get some goddamn rest, or I’ll contact that Doctor friend of yours and have him sedate you. For a week.” Chris concentrated on looking as forbidding as possible. Kirk smiled back happily, the little bastard.

“I’ll make sure to take my mandated beauty sleep, Sir.” Kirk winked, and let the door snap shut behind him.

Chris shook his head at the door, laughing quietly to himself.

Jim Kirk. He’d be a chip off the old block, if it would have been in any way fair to attempt to contrast him with a father whose entire career was cut short by an act of heroism Chris prayed every day would never prove necessary again.

He frowned. That nagging was back, and now he was free to check up on the syllabus. Was it, perhaps, that the  _ Recent Starfleet History _ covered the Kelvin disaster? If so, he could hardly blame Jim for wanting to drop out.

For some reason, his intuition was unconvinced. Something about the lost weight, the way the kid’s eyes had looked haunted - not by something so distant as family loss. If Kirk had submitted a form listing the Kelvin, against his name, there was no chance it would be rejected for a transfer, or ignored. His gut told him this was something far closer; something the kid had personally experienced, or been exposed to.

He knew for a fact, from Phil, that half of Jim’s medical records as a kid were redacted for confidentiality purposes. It had to be connected.

He quickly brought up the syllabus on his PADD and read the listings.

“Semester 2 - first topic - Tarsus IV.”

Chris stared at the PADD numbly.

Well, shit.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I hope this is suitably funny and also moderately painful! :D <3
> 
> Thank you for reading and as ever, comments and kudos feed my dark soul!!!


End file.
